No Rest for the Wicked
by Misguided Insanity
Summary: After Bakura is defeated by the Pharaoh he is forced to find something else worth living for.
1. The End

A/N: I will be heavily experimenting with Marik's character to more realistically display Dissociative Identity Disorder (multiple personality disorder). Yami Marik will not a senseless, evil monster, and will vary greatly from the source material. It's been a long time since I've watched the anime, so I made up my own final battle and I don't think Thief King Bakura had a different name than just "Bakura," which I found strange considering he'd had lived in Ancient Egypt, not Japan. So, TKB is Akefia here.

If you squint you can see pairings, but I just wrote with the intention for friendships between the characters.

I have almost completely finished this story already so it will be completed. If anyone still even reads YGO shit anymore.

Trigger warnings: this story will include talk of suicide, death, reference to abuse. Please let me know if I missed anything.

* * *

He was the hero in this story; he was supposed to win.

He failed.

Everything he had ever dreamt of was gone. Everything he'd done, meaningless.

He collapsed to the floor in silent agony, his body overwhelmed physically and emotionally from the crushing blow to truly feel any of it anymore. He was so tired.

Three millennia had passed since he began this futile quest.

He could hear celebratory cheers but they seemed distant as if he was listening to a recording. The ground vibrated as one single set of footsteps approached him; he no longer held the strength to identify who. The stone floor beneath him blurred until his vision failed him. He had the slightest feeling of being lifted up for only a second before he finally felt nothing at all.

Voices.

Many voices. They were familiar. They had tortured his soul for his entire existence. They all spoke at once so no sentences could be understood, but he could hear individual words. "_Failure." "Lost" "Pharaoh." "Save-" "Akefia!" "-back"_

He couldn't respond to the voices, he couldn't see anything, and he couldn't move. He didn't feel as if he belonged here. There was a nagging presence that pulled at his very soul, it tried to move him away from where he was currently positioned, away from the voices, but it didn't seem to have any real power over him. He didn't move and the voices continued at the same volume.

Suddenly, he was blinded by a bright light and he instantly tried to shield his eyes but as he held no body that was an impossible feat; he couldn't look away. He felt as if he were set on fire as an overwhelmingly powerful presence washed over him. Suddenly thrown back by a great and invisible force, he felt as if he had just been kicked in the chest. He kept alternating between feeling if he were floating backwards or falling. It was as if he were dreaming, he held a physical form one moment, then it would disappear the next. He continued to plummet and the light slowly began to fade. There was no sense of time or distance. He couldn't resign himself to the feeling, panic and adrenaline growing as he began to more confidently feel ownership of a body. He swore he felt his heart racing just before everything stopped.

Physics included - he didn't feel as if he hit a wall or that his velocity was transferred, he simply stopped as if he was never moving at all. He slowly became aware of his surroundings. He certainly had a physical form now, and that form was lying on a soft material – he guessed a bed. His head was slightly elevated and his limbs laid out uncomfortably the way one might lay a corpse down, legs slightly spread, toes upwards, and palms facing up with his fingers slightly curled. He took inventory of himself, not daring yet to attempt moving or opening his eyes. He was clothed in what felt like jeans and a T-shirt. Two arms, two legs, ten fingers - he couldn't accurately count his toes as he was wearing shoes and felt a short wave of unjustified panic before calming himself again. They were likely there, he told himself. He did not feel the familiar weight of the Millennium Ring on his chest, much to his dismay. He turned his attention outwards, trying to listen for any signs of life around him. He heard an electrical humming sound and not much else.

He attempted to open his eyes several times, finding the body did not respond to him immediately. He eventually managed to open them just slightly when he discovered the bright light had returned. He stubbornly squinted and managed to fully open his eyes after a few moments of adjustment.

He heard a gasp.

His body twitched out of surprise and he managed the turn his head just slightly to look for what made the sound. His eyes locked onto a familiar pair of lavender ones. _Marik._

He groaned in irritation. There really is no rest for the wicked.

* * *

He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, his eyes dulled over with apathy. Marik had been ranting on about what had happened after his duel with the Pharaoh. He had allegedly _felt _something was _off_ about his body after Bakura had collapsed. Something to do with magic and souls and whatever else; it didn't really matter to Bakura. When Ryou awoke, he had claimed he still felt like he wasn't alone in the body despite the _friendship squad_ claiming Bakura should have been casted out of the Millennium Ring upon losing the duel. Ryou had simply grabbed the Ring and been looking at it when it began to glow. The light fully enveloped Ryou and the others had begun to panic. The light disappeared as suddenly as it came and two identical versions of the pale boy collapsed to the ground unconscious.

They had separated the two bodies into different rooms, when Bakura asked why, Marik only pursed his lips in a small, sad smile. He could guess what the gesture meant, they thought he would hurt Ryou. That damned demon, Zorc Necrophades, held nearly as much control over him as he did of Ryou, and Bakura owed a great debt to him in payment for his assistance in his quest to defeat the Pharaoh. Bakura detested that a deal he made in a trauma-stricken state as a child still held up so many lifetimes later. His wish was simple, to avenge his village, and despite agreeing to even sacrifice the world to do so, it still wasn't enough. Hurting a child did not help him in his plans, so it would be a waste of his time to do so. He vaguely wondered if his failure meant his deal with the devil was off the table now, he noted offhand that he didn't currently feel the overbearing darkness usually present in his soul but chalked it up to not having the Millennium Ring. He looked closed his eyes and sighed. He was exhausted.

"Well, is he up?" Bakura's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

"Yeah, he woke up a few hours ago. Everyone's with him."

Bakura chuckled under his breath; of course, they were all with his landlord. Though, he was surprised they trusted Marik alone to watch over the _cruel and terrible Thief King_. He was just grateful he wasn't tied to the bed.

A long silence. "I should be dead." Bakura didn't expect Marik to say anything. The Pharaoh is on track to seal the items any minute now once he's done pretending to care about Ryou. He's doing his job for him, there's no longer any reason for him to be alive.

"The gods are bastards," Bakura turned his head to the other male, he had crossed his arms, "but they seem to want to give you another chance."

Bakura gave an amused snort, "You don't speak for the gods, Tombkeeper. I'm sure they only brought me back to fulfill my promise to tell His Highness what he wants to know."

Marik made a face, "Speaking of, I was told to let them know when you woke up." Bakura sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling, "Bastard can't even wait until I can sit up to interrogate me?"

"I wasn't going to tell them, yet."

"Are you planning on interrogating me first?"

Marik chuckled in response and Bakura heard the clacking of jewelry - he assumed Marik shook his head.

Bakura's body still mostly refused to respond from the shoulders down, but he was starting to be able to open and close his right hand. He turned his head towards Marik again with an apathetic look, "What do you want from me, then?"

"Nothing, you fool."

Silence fell over them again as Bakura focused on moving his fingers, then his limbs. When he first moved to sit up, Marik stood next to him, ready to help if needed. Bakura shot him a glare but he didn't back off. He soon was able to swing his legs off the edge of the bed and sit comfortably.

He suddenly dreaded the idea of seeing the Pharaoh or any of the others again. He was thankful Marik was the one assigned guard duty, he would not have been given time to recover by any other ally of the Pharaoh. He realized as he regained his mobility that his excuses were running out.

"-Bakura, let's go." Marik was suddenly at his side; Bakura looked at him in exasperation but allowed the other man to pull him to his feet. He made a mental note to not compliment Marik again, even silently.

To Bakura's surprise, he was pushed towards a window in the room, "What are you doing?"

"We're leaving." He simply said.

It suddenly clicked; Marik wasn't taking him to the Pharaoh. They were running. The familiar feeling of adrenaline hit Bakura and he picked up the pace, following Marik out the first story window silently. Marik was still a bit of a rebel after all.

On one hand, Bakura felt pathetic for leaving. It was a part of the deal he made with the Pharaoh that if he lost he would tell him about his past; but, on the other hand, he never specified when he would. That conversation is not one he was ready for - not so soon after such a crippling defeat. Bakura would be eternally grateful for the mental reprieve; he would fulfill his promise to the Pharaoh, but not today.

The two snuck away successfully from the game shop the Pharaoh's host called home, and Marik led his partner in crime to a nearby hotel, he waved a key card over a reader next to the elevator and they climbed to the 5th floor. Marik moved quickly, picking up a bag and throwing a few articles of clothing from the floor into it before moving into the bathroom to grab his few possessions from there, "My sister will not be happy."

They needed to move quickly before Ishizu realized her brother and the Thief King were missing. Bakura almost dared to consider her finding them a worse possibility than being caught by the Pharaoh. They left the hotel immediately, and Marik hailed a cab to take them across town. They got a room at a decent chain hotel and made their way to the room on the second floor. Marik tossed his bag onto one of the two beds and crossed his arms with a challenging smirk. "That's all the money I had on me, you'll need to pull some weight, thief."

"You got it, Princess," Bakura gave him a toothy grin, "You coming with?"

"I thought I was a '_detriment to you_' and _'irritating_'?" Marik raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused.

"You are," Bakura started going through Marik's bag before it was snatched out of his hands.

"Honor among thieves, you bastard," Marik grumbled under his breath.

"We need different clothes, you idiot. The friendship brigade is going to lose their shit when they realize we aren't there, if they haven't already."

Marik glared as if the thought hadn't occurred to him and begrudgingly threw the bag back at him, "I don't have much." He rolled his eyes as Bakura happily fished out his folding knife.

"Got the necessities, we'll figure something out."


	2. Dreams

A/N: This section feels rather exposition-heavy to me but I don't quite know how to adjust it yet. The section after this chapter is the only part I haven't written so I may end up editing this entire chapter. Whoo.

Again with the TW: mention of suicide

Oh, and a cartouche is an oval with a horizontal line at one end, indicating that the text enclosed is a royal name.

* * *

They had ventured into a busy marketplace where Bakura had managed to swipe a few small articles of jewelry off unfortunate passersby and distracted merchants as Marik proved himself a natural pickpocket, much to Bakura's surprise. The older thief had also grabbed on a whim a large, golden Ankh necklace held on a leather cord as he plundered the stalls as he missed the familiar weight of his Millennium Item. After pawning off their ill-gotten goods in a sketchy market Bakura had led them to, they had a decidedly acceptable amount of spending money and set about finding dinner for the night.

They made their way into a crowded ramen shop and luckily got a table in a back corner where they could mostly talk without too much fear of being overheard. It was a Friday night, which was brilliant for their line of work but less than ideal for relaxing.

"What's your plan, then?" They had ordered and gotten their drinks before Marik began. Bakura was impressed he lasted so long without hearing himself speak. Bakura shrugged his shoulders slightly, internally debating if it was too warm inside the building for him to keep on the coat he'd picked up. He was quite proud of his find; it reminded him of the one he'd left with his landlord. "A stiff drink sounds quite nice." That earned him a glare, "I haven't decided yet, Marik. I'm going to have to talk to the Pharaoh sooner or later and, frankly, later is more ideal."

"What does he want to know from you anyway?"

"His name," Bakura didn't expect his look of shock. He suddenly realized Marik didn't know the full extent of his involvement with the items or the Pharaoh. He didn't understand how he could be unaware; part of the story is permanently scarred onto his back. It was likely something to do with that _other Marik, _he decided. Great, now he had to explain himself to two people. "I had met him in different bodies before Ryou and Yugi, his memory was somehow erased between then and now," he quickly came up with an answer that wasn't a lie but certainly glazed over most important details. Marik narrowed his eyes in suspicion but didn't press the issue; Bakura breathed an inward sigh of relief.

* * *

The sun god Ra had long ago fallen below the horizon before they got back to the hotel room. Marik disappeared into the bathroom almost immediately upon returning, seeming rather distracted. Bakura tore off his jacket and threw it over the back of a chair before sitting on the edge of his bed. He held his head in his hands and allowed himself to briefly wallow in his misery again now that he was alone. He felt a drop of water hit his hand, causing him to angrily shake his head and opted to pace instead.

Soon after, Marik walked out of the shower, clothed only in an oversized black t-shirt and boxers. He looked startled and froze when he saw Bakura as if he didn't expect to see him there. Bakura gave him a weird look and started to walk towards to bathroom to take his turn at the shower but Marik regained his composure, turned and walked back into the restroom, locking the door behind him. Bakura looked at the door in confusion but decided to let the issue go as the television was more interesting than Marik's problems. He flipped through the channels for quite a while before he heard the door open again. Marik now wore pajama pants and was busying himself brushing out his now mostly-dry hair.

"Took you long enough," Bakura grumbled, jumping up from the bed to finally be able to enter the bathroom.

"Don't be such a jerk-"Bakura only heard part of the retort as he closed the door behind him. Roughly half an hour later Bakura emerged to find Marik already fast asleep and the television now played a tournament of Duel Monsters that was turned on mute. His mood soured further as he hit the power button with more force than needed; he'd had quite enough of that game. Exhaustion and not needing to worry about Ryou attempting to take the body let Bakura fall unconscious easier than he was used to. Having his own body did have a few advantages.

* * *

He was plagued with images of an empty, black abyss and echoing voices of the villagers. He couldn't move or answer, he could only listen to their berating comments and cries of pain. After what felt like an eternity, he heard a familiar, deep voice that silenced the scene. Bakura stood up straight with a jerk just before he felt claws rake his back, causing him to cry out in agony. He dropped to one knee and grabbed his shoulder. His blood ran cold as he felt an enormous, monstrous hand capture his body; cruel laughter filled his ears and he was lifted up into the air, able to see a faint outline of a massive beast he recognized all too well. Suddenly, the beast disappeared, and he sat on a thick beam overlooking Domino city. He sat there for a few moments observing the lights and nightlife below him before he felt something inhuman grasp at his arm painfully, causing his to shrink back and lose his balance. He began to panic as he fell, the ground rose quickly to meet him - Zorc Necrophades' name the only thought in his mind. He woke with a start, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. _Soon. _The thought was not his own, it sent shivers up his spine.

After a few moments, Bakura got his breathing under control and finally looked up from his person, realizing with a hint of embarrassment that Marik was watching him with slight concern from across the room. Bakura threw off the blanket and made his escape to the restroom. He pulled his shirt over his head as he quickly changed clothes but froze shock still in fear when he caught sight of 4 red scratch marks down his back in the mirror. He composed himself in the mirror and ran a brush through his hair before returning to the main room where Marik was drumming his fingers nervously against the desk. Bakura became irritated after a few seconds of the sound and slammed his hand on top of Marik's to stop the noise.

Marik jumped slightly before he pulled his hand back from the man, "What's your problem?"

"Most everything, but currently? You," Bakura turned to grab a granola bar he had pillaged from the market and left on the desk the night before.

"Good morning to you, too," Marik crossed his arms, "Sister has been calling me nonstop all morning. Apparently kidnapping you wasn't nearly as much of a criminal offense as missing my appointment."

Bakura chuckled at the terminology, "What are you going on about?"

"Therapy," Marik rolled his eyes, "Sister's idea. It's for the whole _other personality_ thing."

"I thought the Pharaoh killed him for you." That was yet another sore subject of failures on Bakura's part.

"He did!" Marik threw up his hands in exasperation, "What a waste of time! I barely even remember what the lady says, but sister insists I go-Damn it, Ishizu!" He threw his phone onto his bed as it started to ring again, "I get it!"

Bakura glared at the phone then back at Marik, "You do realize people can track those?"

"Track what?"

"Phones, you idiot."

Marik froze in realization as a convenient knock sounded on the door, "Damn it."

Bakura sighed and went to the door, mentally preparing himself for a fight. He swung open the door and was taken aback when a short old woman brushed past him and into the room. Room service.

Bakura and Marik both sighed in relief and left the room to allow the woman to work, going down to the lobby for breakfast. Bakura began to busy himself with stacking as many strips of bacon and sausages as he could on one plate and felt quite pleased with himself as he turned around to look for an available table but instead made instant eye contact with a very easily recognizable character from across the room. He chuckled despite himself, roughly tapped Marik's shoulder to get his attention, and directed the boy's gaze. Marik looked sheepishly at his partner and the two crossed the room, setting their plates down on a table as they passed, their hunger forgotten.

"Pharaoh," Bakura announced, raising his hands in a submissive fashion, "I'd say it's a pleasant surprise but," he paused and made a face as if to say '_it's not'_.

Yami hadn't moved since Bakura first saw him, his arms were crossed, his foot tapped impatiently, and if looks could kill... He said nothing but glared accusingly at Marik who clearly had no idea what to do with himself so he settled with awkwardly staring at the floor.

"Don't blame Marik, Pharaoh," Yami's glare turned once again on the thief and the tension could be cut with a knife, "Let's discuss this somewhere private." Bakura gestured with a hand to follow him and the three made their way back to the hotel room that was thankfully clean and empty now. He cleared his throat and was turning around when he felt a hand grab him by the neck and he was forced to stare back into Yami's intense glare. Bakura could have thrown him off but decided he wasn't in the mood to fight.

"Why must you make everything so difficult, Bakura?"

"I could say the same about you, Pharaoh," He winced as the grip around his throat tightened, now effectively choking him. "I-I'll talk." Marik took a step towards the two ready to break it up before Yami released him.

"Talk."

Bakura took a few unsteady breaths as he looked for a pad of paper and a pen on the desk and began drawing the outline of an Egyptian cartouche and inside the hieroglyphs that make up the Pharaoh's name. He was out of practice of the dead language so it took two attempts to get anything legible. He tore out the note sheet and handed it to the now significantly less angry man, "Your name, as promised, _Atem."_

Yami's eyes went wide with surprise and stared in wonder at the pictures on the page as Bakura vaguely registered Marik's gasp. After a minute the Pharaoh frowned slightly, "It didn't make me remember anything."

Bakura suddenly pounded his fist against the desk, startling both other occupants of the room. "I'm so terribly sorry for you," he growled through his teeth.

"What is your problem with me?"

"I promised a name; I don't owe you my life story!"

Yami grabbed the taller man by the collar, glaring up at him, "Why must you spite me in everything you do? Just answer me and be done with it!"

He could feel his face give away how badly the demand hurt him for just a second and he knew the Pharaoh saw it, "Don't make me say it," Bakura mumbled under his breath, suddenly calm. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Yami released him but he still persisted "I want to know what I did to you."

"No. It's my turn to be lost to history, Pharaoh" Bakura pushed past Yami in his way out the door. He vaguely heard Marik call after him.

He knew Marik would follow him, and he again missed having his Ring; it made escape missions much easier. He only had a brief head start so he ducked around a corner in the hotel hallway just before the staircase, hoping Marik would blindly run down the stairs to catch up to him. After the boy had done just that, he made his way to a window and jumped down the one-story drop to make his exit. He didn't stick to one street for longer than a block before turning, keeping his head down and his path unpredictable. He had no destination in mind except forward. He lost track of time as he wandered the city, focusing on the movement of his feet rather than the darkness encroaching on his mind. If he allowed himself to think, he would stop walking and become absorbed in his own world; it compelled him to keep moving.

It wasn't until the sun began to set did Bakura finally pull his eyes from the floor and realize where he had been led to. The Domino city bridge towered over him and he was mentally transported back to his nightmare he'd had that morning. The world seemed to fade into a dark abyss with only a spotlight of reality on him and his actions as he began to robotically make his way to a ladder typically used by mechanics for maintenance. It was locked but even in his dazed state, he picked the lock with little difficulty. Bakura stood at the base of the ladder and looked up; he couldn't judge the distance and felt a short-lived twinge of fear before slipping back into a state of pure apathy.

He grasped the rungs of the ladder and began to climb; the golden ankh necklace he had stolen would occasionally clack loudly against the metal as he hoisted himself up but otherwise any recognition of the world around him was gone. The sounds of traffic were dull vibrations he had to cease moving to hear.

Finally, he pulled himself on top of the horizontal support beam at the very top of the bridge and he carefully swung his legs over the edge. As he gazed down at the traffic below him and the rushing river, vertigo suddenly hit him causing him to nearly lose his balance. Once nausea had passed, he again began to observe the world leagues below him. The cars and pedestrians passing looked to be the size of ants, small, insignificant.

The thought of jumping crossed his mind. He'd witnessed countless deaths, the vast majority not by his own hands, but time's. He grabbed the ankh necklace with one hand; eternal life is a curse he'd willingly endured for so long. His long imprisonment in the Ring with was Zorc's idea, Bakura didn't realize how long it could take for both him and the Pharaoh to find hosts at the same time and for them to find each other. He couldn't have known; three thousand years is an impossible length of time for any human to imagine, let alone endure. Now that he finally succeeded in discovering the right time and place, he learned the Pharaoh hadn't been aware of a single minute of his endless life. His first and only host was that child who solved the puzzle. His memory was completely wiped of the events from all those millennia ago. If only Bakura could have been so lucky. Luck was never his strong suit. Fate so had it that the Pharaoh would aim to collect and seal the Items, the exact same goal Bakura had. It didn't matter who did it, he decided sadly, his peoples' souls will finally be put to rest. Did he really need to suffer all this time for one five minute conversation three thousand years in the future just to scribble a few hieroglyphics on a piece of scrap paper? The gods were too cruel.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he felt something brush against his arm, he hadn't even heard another person climb up the metal ladder. Marik had kicked him when trying to seat himself on the beam next to him - an action that could have easily toppled him as he was paying no attention to his surroundings whatsoever. Bakura glanced at the boy's face for just a second before looking back down. A thought crossed his mind that he looked different than he had earlier that day, but he dismissed it as quickly as it came. "How'd you find me?"

"Lucky guess," Marik's voice startled him, it was certainly deeper and more course than usual, but it was calm, "For a thief, you stand out quite a bit to passersby. I would suggest a hat next time if you do not want to be found."

Bakura studied the other man, he enunciated his words as if he was unfamiliar with the tongue he was speaking, his body seemed very tense but he didn't grasp onto the beams as if it were the height causing it, the tension causing his veins to pop out of his forearms, his hair was severely windblown from the open air around them but was clearly styled as it normally was.

"Marik was certain you were gone." That was all the confirmation Bakura needed, Marik was not sitting beside him, it was his other personality.

Bakura felt a shiver run up his spine at the other man's laugh, Marik's vocal chords sounded abused to make such a dark and deep sound, "I am not here to fight, Thief King, I came to find you and bring you home." He paused for a moment before adding, "You stressed main personality, you know." His voice was void of emotion; he started everything as fact.

"What makes you think I don't want to fight you?" Bakura challenged, summoning anger to his voice. His loss to this version of Marik set back his plans and encouraged Marik to show the Pharaoh his scars. This personality cost him greatly.

Yami Marik gave him a sideways glance, "You came here to kill yourself." It wasn't a question.

"So what if I did?"

"Are you going to do it?" Bakura fell silent, looking back down at the world below, "It is a far enough drop; you would most likely die on impact. I assumed you would not feel a thing."

"Your bedside manner is pretty damn awful," Bakura sighed and kicked his feet slowly.

"I have not yet decided if I would stop you. Marik is not watching me."

"Are you trying to talk me into it?"

"Would you stop me?" Bakura looked up at the other and gave him a hard glare, "I failed to kill the Pharaoh as well. I may not have had three millennia but I have had many painful years due to him. I have suffered torture in his name as well as you. Would you allow me to end my life?"

Bakura dropped his gaze again, "You would kill Marik."

"That is why I have not jumped. Why have you not?" A long pause before he continued speaking, "Are you also held here by my main personality?"

Bakura's hands balled into fists, "I don't know why I haven't done it." He swore he saw the other man smile but it could easily have been a trick of the light.

"I am sure he appreciates it regardless," Yami Marik's voice was quieter and slower than before, more similar to Marik's in tone, and his shoulders relaxed slightly, "I think he's trying to take back the body. I can't-" he lowered his head and began tapping his fingers as if he were counting to himself. Bakura watched him, ready to catch him if need be. He looked as if he would fall asleep then and there, hundreds of feet in the air. After a few moments, he tensed again and finally lifted his head, "What an idiot main personality is. He is terrified of heights." It didn't seem like he was addressing Bakura and he glared in irritation at nothing in particular, "If it has been determined that neither of us will be dying tonight, we should get down."

Bakura nodded slowly, then replied aloud when he realized Yami Marik was still not looking at him and Marik began the climb down, his actions slow and careful as if he had difficulty focusing. Bakura followed behind him, very aware that if the other man fell he couldn't catch him. It was already dark and sections of the ladder were not lit well. Bakura greatly anticipated his feet reaching solid ground again.

"This isn't the first time I've seen you since I came back, is it?" Bakura asked after their slow descent to Earth had finally concluded.

Yami Marik chuckled, "No, you have already seen me take control of the body once, in the hotel room. I did not realize you would be there and it startled me. I also helped Marik pickpocket, though I was not fully in control then." He paused as if he were debating with himself, "I have been hiding my presence from main personality. He believes me to be dead; though he will likely suspect I am here as he will not remember anything after I took over the search for you."

"Why do you not want him to know?"

Marik's darker personality sighed, "I want him to know I am here but he is not able to deal with me yet. I would appreciate it if you would not tell him you saw me."

"You want me to lie?" Bakura gave him a mischievous smirk, "I'm a changed man; near-death experiences do that to a guy."

The other man gave him a blank look, "What do you want?"

"Information," Bakura declared bluntly, "Does Marik know about my past? You clearly do, but he seemed surprised I knew the Pharaoh's name."

Yami Marik looked up and down the empty street and lowered his voice, clearly not liking this line of questioning, "He does not. Main personality has no memories from the tomb; he only knows what he has been told about the body's life. He knows of the Pharaoh's final battle but is not aware of the other parties involved." He paused for a few steps before continuing, "And he does not know about Kul Elna."

Bakura nodded, his suspicions were confirmed, "But why doesn't he know if you do?"

"Our memories are not the same for a reason. He is the main personality, he deals with the outside world; he does not need to know most things from our past. It is better for him - for us. You are welcome to explain your story to him if you want. It should be fine."

"Another thing," Bakura shot him a glance, trying to determine if the other man was getting irritated by the interrogation; he wasn't sure the next time he would see this version of Marik if he's trying to not get caught, "Why aren't you acting like an unbearable bastard?"

Yami Marik laughed outright, almost sounding like his main personality, "That is more complicated to explain. There are other personalities you have not met, and it is possible for them to-" he stopped in thought, clearly trying to find a way to explain. He clapped his hands together, his fingers interlocking, "For them to combine. I am a mix of the personality from Battle City and another personality that rarely took control of the body. It is difficult to explain, but I have memories of both of their lives as if I have personally lived them. When the Pharaoh defeated, well, _me_, it made that personality very weak which likely caused the integration. I do not fully understand how it happened but-" he gestured towards himself as if that would answer any questions.

Bakura nodded slowly; he understood the words but was still quite confused, "I'm going to pretend that made any sense," If he was around Marik long enough, he felt confident that he could figure it out. Yami Marik frowned slightly, but let the topic go and Bakura could tell he had difficulty focusing again.

"You hungry?" Bakura asked offhand, not fully expecting a response as his partner was clearly not all there anymore.

"Huh..? Y-yeah, I forgot I need to eat," he slurred the words, which worried Bakura slightly, though he'd be damned if he ever admitted that.

He led the distracted man to a nearby late-night pizza shop and ordered for the both of them to allow Marik to sit down and rest his head on the table. Thankfully, he appeared drunk so he didn't pull any strange looks from the other patrons.

Bakura sat quietly after finishing his meal, watching the immobile creature as he fell back into his thoughts. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest, he was no longer being chased down by the Pharaoh and did not have any reason to search him out, he was finally his own person - he felt a sudden wave of panic as he realized he didn't know what that truly meant. He always had a plan, a goal, and people counting on him. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn't familiar with uncertainty.

He heard the blond groan from across the table, "W-what the hell happened to me? My head's killing me." He lifted his head and looked around, looking very dazed and confused, his lavender eyes slowly focused when he realized Bakura sat across from him and a huge smile crossed his face, "Bakura!"

"Keep your voice down, idiot," Bakura leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his usual amused expression set on his face, "I really shouldn't have let you drink so much."

Marik blinked in confusion as he realized he was in a restaurant and it was obviously very late, "What happened?"

Bakura snorted, "You don't remember? Gods be damned you really can't hold your liquor at all. What's the last thing you remember?"

"You stormed out of the hotel, I was looking for you."

He rolled his eyes, "I went to a bar down the street from the hotel to cool off and you stormed in all frazzled like a damn woman so I bought you a drink." His expression turned into an evil smirk, "Seems you're quite the catch around here, you went off sitting with a few rather attractive men for a while and I didn't see you again until you were quite obnoxious."

Marik's eyes went wide, "You lying bastard, I would never!"

"You're right. But you did rack up a fair tab; you owe me," he flashed a toothy grin at the other. Win-win.

"Alright, whatever just drop it!" Marik finally noticed the untouched slice of now cold pizza in front of him and began eating, avoiding eye contact with his partner so he missed the warm, genuine smile aimed at him.


End file.
